


Walls and Bridges

by andthemoondogs



Series: Two of Us [3]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-25 07:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17721137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthemoondogs/pseuds/andthemoondogs
Summary: During John's Lost Weekend, Paul stops in for a visit after the infamous jam session to discuss their feelings and talk about writing again together.





	1. I Know (I Know)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration with https://m0rning-moon.tumblr.com! 
> 
> The explicit part is in the second chapter!
> 
> If you're interested in seeing how Paul told Linda about he and John's relationship, that work can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17736644 !

Although Paul wouldn’t admit it out loud to anyone but his wife (they talked at length about it before he left), he was _beyond_ nervous to see John again. The previous night had been certainly easier - there had been people everywhere and drugs abounded. He hadn’t been sober, and John _certainly_ hadn’t, either. In fact, John had been so out of it, there was a big chance that he didn’t even remember they had agreed to meet again the next day. He could show up and have to ring the doorbell endlessly - John could just be asleep, hungover, and not hear it. Or he could show up and there could be people everywhere, again - he could maybe not even get to talk to John in private again. 

The question was, though, why should he want to talk to John in private? Certainly, he could try to fool himself and say that he was simply worried about his state - about all the drinking and the drugs and the fighting and getting thrown out of bars - but while that was true, it wasn’t the sole reason he wanted to be alone with John. 

The truth was that he _missed_ John - plain and simple. And that was the biggest reason why he wanted so bad to see him again, and why he was so nervous. 

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Paul walked up to the front door to the ostentatious Santa Monica mansion John had been staying in and rang the doorbell, checking his reflection in the glass panes of the door.

John remembered. How could he forget? Paul had agreed to meet up with him! He hadn’t any sleep, his brain wouldn't let him. He drank coffee and hoped for the best. He was still feeling a little drunk when the sun came up. It wasn't too much longer until Paul would show up. John passed the time by taking a shower and playing around on his guitar. Mostly old stuff, songs with fond memories that lacked the other half of them. 

When John heard the doorbell, his stomach flipped and for a brief moment, he thought he might be sick. The wave of nausea passed quickly, though, and he made his way to the door.

He paused for a second, heart remembering the last time he'd been at Paul's house and he hoped beyond all hope that things wouldn't end that way today. 

Finally pulling the door open, John ushered Paul in with a smile. He longed to hug him, to breathe him in, but he refrained. "Shaved, eh?" He smiled, running a finger across the clean shaven spot where last night a moustache had been.

"Yeah," Paul replied with a smile, his face flushing and heart fluttering at the touch. Even after John pulled his hand back, he could still very much feel the ghost of his touch right above his lips. Stepping inside (with his back turned to John, of course), he touched the spot gently with his own fingers - but as soon as John could see him again, he disguised the action as just scratching at his newly-shaved face. 

"No one else around today, then?"

"Everyone's still pissed from last night. Sleepin' it off, I reckon. here, I'll show you me room," he said with a grin, ushering Paul farther into the house and up the stairs to his room. Paul nodded, following John upstairs. Absentmindedly, he patted his shirt pocket, where he held some weed - he had the foresight to bring it, knowing that he and John would definitely need it, especially if they were to be alone. "Is Richie in? I was hopin' to see him," he asked, just for something to fill the air as John led him through the house and to his bedroom.

"Maybe? not really sure who's in... We can check in a bit.”

 

There were a couple of guitars and a full ashtray by the bed, but for the most part if was clean (if only because he cleaned it while he couldn't sleep last night). He was nervous and he had no idea how to act around Paul. Last night had been a lot easier with the help of the drugs and alcohol running through his veins. Today they were in a lessened state and he felt so much more anxious than ever. Holding his hands out, he shrugged. "Not too bad for a temporary gig, eh? Better than Hamburg," he smiled fondly.

As he opened the doors to it, Paul couldn't help but let out a laugh. The master bedroom was huge - just what you'd imagine, in a house with this kind of history. It was hilarious to him and so John that he would insist on taking it, despite Harry being more or less at the forefront of the whole endeavor. "Worlds better," he agreed, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between his lips, before holding out the carton for John. "This is where JFK and Ms. Monroe did it, right? Same bed an' all?"

"Ay it was. Lucky bastard, that one," he chuckled, accepting the offered cigarette, lighting up with his lighter as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. He was tired, but there was no way he was missing this opportunity to spend time with Paul.

Paul lit up, too, chucking the lighter back at John as he walked towards the balcony. It was one hell of a view over the beach - picturesque, really. He stared out at it, through the glass doors, for a moment, before turning back to face John.

"How've you been?" John asked, finally, after a few beats of silence. He’d kept up with Paul in the news, but other than that, he didn't know. He suddenly found himself wanting to know everything - well, _almost_ everything about Paul. He could do without hearing about Linda, but only because he was still so very jealous of her.

"Good. Really good. Album's doing well, kids are great," Paul said, slipping easily into small talk. He took a drag of his cigarette, turning back to look out at the sea. He thought of asking _how about you_ , but he knew better. Nothing about John said fine; not the amount of weight he'd lost or the bags under his eyes. He settled for a different question, instead. "Where's May?"

It was all John could do to watch Paul at the window. He grabbed the camera quickly and snapped a photo with a chuckle to himself. "May's out running errands. Keeps herself busy, poor girl. She worries about me," he added quietly. 

"Hey," Paul said in response to the clicking noise, immediately turning around with a smile he couldn't hold back. "Whatcha got there? Lemme see." He approached John on the bed and, shoving his cigarette in his mouth, held out his hand for the picture. 

"No, it's mine!" John said in a playful voice, holding the picture close to his chest with a laugh. Paul laughed, happy to see the tension between the two of them melting away. He took the photo and shook it, eyeing it as it developed. "Ah, that's a good shot. Arty, like," he said, passing it back to John. 

"Just you and me right now, looks like… 's good to see you again, Paul," John smiled, adjusting his glasses. "Glad things are goin' well for you." He couldn't help but wonder how much better they might be if things had gone differently between the two of them. He felt his heart break again at the thought and tears stung his eyes, threatening to fall. He looked away quickly, hand rubbing the back of his head as he cleared his throat. "What d'you wanna do today?" he asked, daring to look back at Paul with a smile.

"Oh, I dunno. But I might have something for you, if you've been good," he said with a sly, playful little smile.

"Good, hm?" John batted his eyelashes at Paul. "I'm a good boy. I promise," he said in a different playful voice, giving Paul a big, goofy smile.

"Have you been eating all of your vegetables?" Paul asked, putting on his best Mimi voice, covering his pocket with his hand.

"Not as much as I used to, but I do like _greens_ ,” he said, raising a brow as Paul covered his pocket. This was everything he'd missed. The silly banter between them, the smiles and the compliments. Suddenly John couldn't get enough - though could he ever get enough of Paul? The answer was a resounding _no_ in his head. 

"Whatcha got, Macca? Got me curiousity up..."

Paul looked over his shoulders, playfully scanning the empty room, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a plastic bag of weed, which he dangled before John's eyes. "Jamaican," he said, before taking a drag of his cigarette and chucking the bag onto John's lap, checking his pockets for rolling papers.

"Ooooh!" John said as the bag was dangled. He laughed when he threw it onto his lap, opening it up to smell it with a sigh of approval. He patted the bed next to him and grinned widely. "C'mon, don't worry I won't bite... too hard." He laughed again, folding his legs under him.

With a little chuckle, Paul sat down on the bed, producing rolling papers from another pocket. He laid one out on his thigh and held out his hand for John to pass him the bag. "Hand it over. You're the worst at rolling joints."

John passed the bag back to Paul, rubbing his hands together. "Not me fault that you're better at it than I am," he chuckled, leaning against Paul's arm, watching him roll the joint. "This better be good, Paulie," he grinned, teasing. He knew it would be. And _damn_ , he could use a bit of a high right now. He was definitely coming down, starting to feel that urge building up to get high again. He hoped this would be enough.

"Oh, it is. It's what Linda and I smoked before we came in yesterday," Paul said, giving John a smile as he rolled the joint with expert hands. His eyes kept involuntarily flickering up to John, though - a side effect of being so close to one another. 

Once he was done, he popped the remaining weed back into his pocket again, giving John a wink. "For later," he explained, before licking the rolling paper closed. "Get us an ashtray," he instructed John, before cocking his head sideways, towards the balcony. "D'you wanna smoke outside?"

Watching Paul's hands. John leaned back on the bed, reaching for the ashtray. "Yeah, let's go out to the balcony." Stopping John on the way to the balcony with a hand on his arm, Paul stubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray he was holding, before grabbing the Polaroid camera John had left on the bed. John's heart skipped a beat at the hand on his arm, his breath gone from his lungs for a moment before turning around and giving Paul a wink. He couldn't help himself. All that chemistry was still there as though nothing had happened. 

But everything had happened. _Everything_.

John carefully carried the ashtray outside and emptied itinto the bushes below. Sitting on the chair, he again folded his legs under him and got comfortable, rubbing his hands together once more in anticipation. Paul put the strap around his neck and followed John out into the balcony, settling down on a chair across from him with the joint dangling from his lips.

"Light it up already!" John laughed.

Paul lit up and took a first, long puff, letting the smoke fill his lungs, before passing it over to John.

John pushed those intrusive thoughts from before out his head and took the joint from Paul, taking a long puff as well. Exhaling slowly, he couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips as he looked at Paul. He was out of things to say, not wanting to make small talk, but not wanting to address the deeper things that probably needed to be addressed. Instead, he simply looked at Paul for a long moment before shifting his gaze out over the balcony.

Paul glanced out at the sea, watching the waves as he slowly began to feel a little more mellow. He could sense John's eyes on him, though, but he felt scared to look back - as if he didn't trust himself not to go down a dangerous path again.

"Oi, wanna share this?" He playfully berated John, holding out his hand for the joint.

John took another hit with a smirk and shook his head. "What if I don't," he teased, holding it farther from Paul, though he handed it over with a slight laugh. "Beautiful out here, isn't it?" He said, eyes on Paul and not the landscape.

Paul laughed and reached for the joint as John held it away from him, playfully smacking his arm before taking it back. He took a puff, looking out at the scenery. "It really is. Oh," holding the joint between his fingers, he picked up the camera around his neck and snapped a picture of the view. He shook it and took another hit from the joint, then holding the picture out for both of them to see. "I'm keeping this one," he said, placing it down on the table between them.

John laughed at the playful hit, looking at the picture as Paul held it out. "That's a good one," he said, plucking the joint from Paul’s fingers and taking another hit. "Lemme see that," he said, pointing to the camera, holding the joint back out for him to take.

"What, the camera?" 

"No, the tree behind you," John said with a straight face.

Paul handed it over, accepting the joint from John and taking a drag. A gust of wind flew by, taking the picture he'd put down on the table with it - Paul shot up from his seat and went after it, shoving it safely into his pocket.

John laughed when the wind took the picture and snapped a photo of Paul trying to pick it up and another when he shoved it into his pocket. "Brilliant. The camera loves you, darling," he teased, shaking the pictures.

"Did you just take a picture of me arse?! Lemme see that," Paul reached for the photos in John's hands, joint hanging from his lips.

John laughed loudly, head falling back and nodded. "So what if I did? Can't help it you're so photogenic, Paulie," he said, handing him the pictures.

Paul laughed out loud, examining the pictures. One had him bending down to pick up the photo off the floor and the other had him facing the camera, walking back to his seat. "I'm taking this with me," he said, shoving one of the pictures into his pocket and passing John the joint. "You can keep the arse one."

John took the joint and took another hit, taking the other picture from paul. "Good," he smiled, putting it into his pocket to keep. "This is good shit," he said, looking at the joint. "Feeling much better than I was earlier this morning, that's for sure," he said with a smile. He couldn't help all these smiles. Seeing Paul, not fighting, and honestly just being in his presence again without Yoko or Linda around... It was what he imagined heaven would be like, if there was, in fact, a heaven.

"What happened this morning?" Paul asked softly, leaning his elbow on the table and his face on his hand. Taking advantage of the fact John seemed to be entranced by the burning joint in his hand, he stared at him, intently studying his profile. Fuck, he looked beautiful - even more so than he remembered him. His hair was long but not too long, sporting curls that reminded him of years ago, back when John used to style his hair into a neat DA, one singular curl resting against his forehead.

"Honestly couldn't sleep last night. Everything was starting to wear off and it messes me up when it does. That's why I'd rather stay out of me mind.” His eyes moved to catch Paul's again. _Fuck_ , he wished everything was different. He wanted to scream and shout and he also wanted to sob into his hands. He missed Paul... not just missed but _ached_ for him. "'M glad you're here, " he finally said.

Paul listened, casting his eyes down to the table as he did. Honestly, he wished he could give John a hug - hold his head against his chest and tell him it would all be alright. But he couldn't, he didn't trust himself or John to stop there.

"I'm glad you're here, too." He chuckled to himself, realizing what he'd said. "Well, I'm glad I'm here."

John chuckled a little, wondering if Paul was feeling anything like he used to. If this was all one-sided. He pushed his glasses up, fingers rubbing his eyes, thankful that the weed was likely making them a little red because he could feel the prick of tears that wanted so badly to fall. He couldn't fucking cry. That was the last thing he wanted to do. "It's been too long, y'know..." he said, adjusting his glasses again, a sad smile on his lips.

"It has," Paul said, accompanied by a sad little sigh. Looking over at John, though, he could sense that something was off. He reached out and took the joint from John, a protective little gesture, and took a final puff himself, before stubbing it out on the ashtray. 

Sighing, he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, admiring the view once more. He couldn't hide his concern for John, though, eyes flickering over to him the whole time.

"Hey," Paul called softly, reaching over the table to lightly squeeze John's arm. "D'you need to talk, Johnny?"

Again, his heart skipped a beat at the touch. It was what he dreamt of so often. His eyes moved to look at paul's hand and he couldn't help but laugh. His life was in shambles. It was a fucking wreck and all he had was May who he was sure was tired of hearing about everything. 

"Not sure you wanna hear what i've got to say, Paulie..."

"Why wouldn't I?" Paul asked sincerely, not retreating his hand - sensing that John needed the contact. "C'mon, 's what I'm here for." He shot John a smile. "Shoot."

"You know I’ve got this... _situation_ going on with Yoko and May. Anyway, everything seems off lately, no matter how hard I try. And I’ve been talking to May a lot... about you.... she always says I should ring you but..." He trailed off, shrugging. "Guess I’ve always been scared of what might be on the other end." 

He paused for a moment. "Remember Paris?" He smiled.

Well, the conversation certainly took a turn - Paul's eyebrows shot up as John spoke about talking to May about him. It was quite ridiculous, really - that the both of them sat at home talking to their women about each other. He chose not to mention it to John, though.

Paul had been about to say something about how he could always ring him, anytime - maybe throw in a joke about time zones there, too, just to lighten the mood. But then John mentioned Paris, and Paul's heart dropped to his stomach. 

"Uh, yeah. I do." He looked away, slightly uncomfortable. "Still got the pictures and everything."

"Things were so much different then... We were so young and stupid. Now we're just old and stupid, " he laughed. He sensed Paul's unease, though he couldn't help but pry a bit more. "Wait... You kept them?" He asked, brows raising a little.

Paul looked back at John, a slight blush creeping up onto his cheeks. Perhaps he shouldn't have said that - and on top of it, he felt a little hurt that John probably got rid of his share of pictures, judging by his reaction. "Well, yeah. You didn't?"

"I didn't have a choice, really. Came home one day and almost all my pictures were gone. Had quite a row with Yoko about it... The japs don't like clutter and I guess they were cluttering up the place," he shrugged. “I wish she would've asked me. I didn't want to get rid of them," he admitted. He noticed the blush on Paul's cheeks, though, and couldn't help but smile.

Paul had to fight the urge to say something less than flattering about Yoko. He managed to hide his annoyance, though, raising his eyebrows and nodding. "I kept everything. Still at home in London. Hid it away so the kids wouldn't get to it." He gave a little laugh. "One day I caught Mary drawing on an old picture of us, you know, from the Beatles. Couldn't stay mad at her, though."

John cracked a smile about Mary. He was grateful Paul didn't say anything about Yoko. He didn't feel much like talking about her anyway. He watched Paul's lips as he spoke, the way they formed words, and tried to remember the way they felt. In his state, though, he had to admit he thinks he forgot. "Can I be honest with you, Paulie?"

Paul had been staring intently at a palm tree in the distance, trying to figure out why he was doing that in the first place. John's voice snapped him back to reality, though, and he turned to look at him, blinking a few times. "Yeah. Always, Johnny."

His stomach flipped and he wanted to stop himself from speaking, but his impulsivity had him spilling out _I miss you_ before his brain could stop it. "I mean, really miss you...." he continued, before he forced himself to shut up.

The mellow smile that had crept its way to Paul's lips dropped as his brain registered what John was saying to him. His heart skipped twenty beats. He had no idea how to respond to this.

"I-- I miss you, too, Johnny. I do," he said, opting for the truth, looking John in the eyes as he said it so he knew it was true - but losing courage afterward, gaze dropping to the table, to the ashtray between them.

He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He missed him, too. That was enough for now, for the moment. He knew it didn't matter because Paul had made his choice. And that choice wasn't John. His tongue slipped out over slightly dry lips and he shifted his weight in the chair. "May thinks we should write together again..." he said hopefully. "Could we?"

"Yeah!" Paul replied, a bit too excitedly. This - writing - Paul could do. It was second nature to him, writing with John, and it was certainly much less complicated than the other thing in his mind. "We should. Now, you mean? Or later?"

John smiled at Paul's excitement. It made him feel a little less like breaking down into tears. "We could, yeah. Or later. 'S up to you. You're the guest so your choice, " he said with a sad smile. He didn't want Yoko back or even May in this moment. He'd give everything up for Paul. Everything.

Paul laughed - a pure, happy laugh, not believing his luck. Christ, he'd been avoiding asking John to sit and write with him again for ages, fearing he'd get told to fuck off. "Well, I-- do you have a song? Anything?"

John thought for a moment, head shaking. Honestly, all he could think of right now was telling Paul how much he loved him. "Off the top of me head, no not right now. What about you? Got anythin'?"

Paul thought for a bit, but his brain was too foggy from the pot. When he couldn't think of any of his song ideas that needed working on, he stood up, knowing that he couldn't pass up this opportunity. "I don't have anything at the moment either, but I'm sure we can come up with something. We're bloody Lennon and McCartney, for Christ's sake," he said, excitedly, grabbing John by the arm. "C'mon, let's get downstairs. We can sit at the piano and see what happens."

John wasn't touch starved by any means. He had more than his share, but there was something about the way _Paul's_ touch affected him. It made him giddy and excited and for once he was actually smiling a smile that reached his eyes. He hurried down to the music studio and held out his arms. "Where should we start then?"

Downstairs, Paul made a beeline for the piano, sitting near the edge to leave enough space for John. He played a few notes, fingers caressing the keys - getting warmed up. "Well? Get down here, then," he told John with a huge, happy smile, cocking his head to the side, beckoning him closer.

Johns heart leapt at the notes. To hear Paul playing again in front of him... it was beyond magical. Somewhat nervously, though, he approached the piano bench and sat down, heart racing. He remembered every word that was exchanged the last time they sat like this and honestly, it was almost too much. He gave him a smile, though, weak as it might've been. "Any, uh, melodies stuck in your head?"

Paul smiled back, playfully knocking shoulders with John as he sat down at the piano with him. He shrugged in response to John's question and continued plucking away at the piano, until he hit a chord that sparked up a memory. He started playing - messily and by memory, he hadn't heard the song in a while, let alone played it - Come Go With Me, humming the lyrics. "Remember that?" He said to John, giving him a smile. "You were playing that when I first saw you." He continued to play, scrunching up his face as he messed up a few times. "Down down down down to the penitentiary," he sang, nudging John lightly.

"Feels like a lifetime ago," he said, fingers dancing at keys, playing along just as poorly. He sang along, though he could barely manage it. After a moment, though, he stopped, standing up and running his hands through his hair. "This is harder than I thought, " he admitted.

"Hey, hey," Paul said, standing up as well and placing himself in front of John. One hand went to rest atop his bicep, gently squeezing in a calming manner as he searched for John's eyes. "Why? What's wrong?"

John closed his eyes, reveling in the touch. No one's touch calmed him like Paul's. He shook his head, willing those fucking tears not to fall. He exhaled, finally opening his eyes. "It was never just about writing together. It was special. _We_ were special, Paulie."

Paul's heart clenched; chest tightening, eyes burning. He didn't answer immediately. He couldn't. He was at a loss for words, really - he could tell John that he knew, he felt it too. That there wasn't a waking moment in his life where he didn't miss him terribly, that there were days and nights where he would sit alone, thinking of all that they could have been, and cry until his body was so tired it simply shut down.

But he couldn't.

What was the point? They had both made decisions in their lives. They were adults, now; husbands, Paul was a father. This was the path their lives had taken, and they were parallel, never to cross in that way again. It wasn't right. But it didn't feel right, either, to be apart; to bury such intense feelings in booze or drugs or distractions of any kind.

The whole thing weighed heavily on Paul every day, but sometimes it got to be too much. Like now - and he could recognize that he was, again putting himself through this situation. Wouldn't it have been easier to stay away? To pretend that John really didn't care about him anymore, didn't love him - repeat that to himself over and over so he would believe it, in hopes that his own love would somehow go away?

There was just nothing Paul could say to John right now. He came to terms with it, and so instead of speaking, he pulled John into a hug, chest heaving with a deep, long sigh.

He knew what Paul would say, what he thought about the situation. He made it very clear back at Cavendish. He hadn’t expected the hug, but he returned it immediately, arms wrapping around paul and holding him tight. Breathing him in, John made no move to let go, or to push things any farther. He simply held Paul and allowed himself to be held all at once. 

Paul's arms were warm and strong. They were secure. They were home. in this moment, all that was wrong felt right and John wanted to be a better person for Paul. He wanted to be someone paul would be proud of. Maybe it was the lingering effects from the night before, maybe it was the weed, but John was lost in a blissful daydream as they stood there hugging. 

He wanted to say _I love you_ , but he couldn't bring himself to. He knew what Paul would say - they couldn't do this again. And maybe Paul was right, but in this moment, John felt like they could do anything as he buried his face against Paul's neck, nuzzling into him because he couldn't stop himself.

John's warm breath against Paul's neck was bliss. His scent, his quiet breathing - everything was just so right. This - however sad the circumstances, this, Paul felt, was just what he was supposed to do, where he was supposed to be. Call it a moment of clarity, perhaps, made possible by the almost whole joint he'd just smoked - suddenly, as he closed his eyes, he could picture Linda looking on, but she wasn't mad. She understood. His mind flashed back to just after the Beatles' breakup, when he would spend days doing nothing but getting drunk and high to numb his pain, and how Linda had more than once found him crying alone in their bedroom; taken him into her arms and told him she understood. 

Suddenly, it didn't feel so wrong anymore. In fact, it would be wrong for him not to do it. Gently grabbing John's face, he lifted it up towards him, kissing him deep and meaningfully, hoping that it would be enough to communicate everything he wanted to but couldn't through words.

 _That_ was unexpected. Unexpected but everything John wanted. He kissed him back with a matched passion, pressing their bodies together. Part of him, though, said to stop before he got hurt, but the other part, the selfish one, said to indulge in this because it may not happen again. 

His tongue slipped past Paul's lips, tangling with the younger man's, and John moaned softly into the kiss. His mind raced, but his heart... his heart was just where it needed to be. Desperately needing air, he broke the kiss, but his lips lingered on Paul's, foreheads pressed together. "I love you," he breathed. Years of holding those words back had him feeling so relieved, yet terrified of what might happen next.

"I love you," Paul whispered back, raising a hand to gently brush John’s hair away from his face. He tucked it behind John's ear, stroking the side of his cheek with his thumb. "I love you," he repeated, looking into John's eyes. "Always have, always will. No matter what happens - to me, to you, to the whole world," he continued, pausing only to plant a small kiss on John's lips. "I'll always love you, John. Never forget that."

John was melting under Paul's touch and heavy gaze. This was everything he was searching for in Yoko, in May. He'd never find it again, not in anyone else as long as he lived. It was always Paul. It would always be Paul. 

"I'll always love you, Paul. I keep trying to find this in other things. Sex, drugs, booze... but I can't find it because it's only you and it's only me. Just the two of us," he said quietly with a smile. "What's that mean, though? You made it clear we can't be together anymore... do I have to lose you again? Because I don't think I can do it again, Paulie. I really don't." Not in the state he was in.

"I don't know what we can do, John. I'm sorry. I don't have the answers," Paul said sincerely, pain evident in his voice. This was a fucked situation they were in. Perhaps he didn't have the answers because there weren't any. Christ, perhaps this was unprecedented in the history of the world, perhaps the universe just didn't know what to do with them. He didn't know. He didn't understand it. But it was important to him, though, that John never forgot how much he loved him. 

"I'll always love you," Paul said it again, hoping, if nothing else, that the words would finally be engraved into John's brain. "I can come down here every once in a while, we can be together. Once you sort out your visa, you can come to England, too. We might even go back to Paris," he suggested with a smile. "I've told Linda, you know. She gets it. I don't-- I don't think she'd mind, so long as I don't let it affect our marriage and the kids and all."

"I'll always love you, too. I don't think anything in the universe could stop me from loving you. No, _I know_ it couldn't-- _really_? We could?" Finally after years of darkness John felt hope. He'd almost forgotten the emotion altogether. He was already planning the divorce from Yoko, getting his visa together. "You really think this could work?" He asked, excited yet skeptical.

"I think we should try it," Paul said with a smile, beyond happy to see the glimmer of hope in John's eyes again. "I just-- I'll keep the two things separate. You know, Linda and the kids... and you. We should try it. We'll never know, otherwise. It can't..." He laughed. "It can't be worse than what we've been through, can it?"

John couldn't hide the smile. Maybe it wasn't exactly what he wanted - a life with just him and Paul - but honestly, this would be so much better than what he was currently going through. May would understand. Yoko maybe not so much, but then again, she wasn't exactly feeling their marriage anyway, sending him away on this journey. His heart was overflowing with emotions and he laughed a little at Paul's words. It sure as hell couldn't be worse than what they'd been through already. And this meant he'd have Paul in his life again. John moved to take Paul's face in his hands and kissed him hard, passionately. This was _everything_.

Melting into the kiss, Paul could feel as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. In truth, he didn't know if this was all going to work out - at this point, it was all wishful thinking. But it didn't matter. If there was the smallest possibility that it could, then Paul would cling to it. This was heaven. It was everything they were meant to be.

Breaking the kiss only for a breath, he couldn't help the giddy little laugh that escaped him. Placing a kiss to the corner of John's lips, he held him by the waist, cocking his head to the side. "You wanna go for a dip in the pool, love?"


	2. Let Me Roll It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the lost weekend still, John and Paul reconnect after all those years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a collaboration with https://m0rning-moon.tumblr.com!

Breaking the kiss only for a breath, Paul couldn't help the giddy little laugh that escaped him. Placing a kiss to the corner of John's lips, he held him by the waist, cocking his head to the side. "You wanna go for a dip in the pool, love?"

This was what John needed. _Paul_ was what John needed. He could never get enough of his touch, of his kiss. Never. He didn't know if this whole thing would work either, but he was more than ready to try. Living without Paul had been pure hell. 

Humming at the kiss to the corner of his lips, he smiled. "Yeah, we can. Whatever you wanna do, Macca," he said, still smiling from ear to ear. "Got an extra pair of swim trunks if you want in me drawer over there," he said, head nodding to the dresser across the room. "It'll cost you, though," he chuckled.

"I can't wear your trunks. I'll look ridiculous - you're so much tinier than me, now," Paul said, running his hands up and down John's arms as he spoke, without realizing it. "Now would probably be a good time for you to find out if we're alone," he added, and only then it clicked with him the last thing John had said. He raised an eyebrow, but there was a smirk on his lips. "Wait, what's it gonna cost me?"

"You could squeeze those hips into 'em," he winked, laughing at his question. "Lots of kisses and maybe some good quality cuddle time. Like we used to do back in the day... I miss _everything_ with you, Paulie," he admitted, pressing their lips together once more. 

He didn't really want to talk about how thin he'd gotten. Was it _too_ thin? Had he lost too much weight? He didn't want to be a skeleton, he just wanted to be healthy, though, admittedly, he may have gone too far. He wasn't entirely sure, he just knew he didn't want to be back in his fat Elvis phase.

"Alright, well, I'll see if they fit." Paul gave John another kiss on the cheek, before heading towards the dresser he'd pointed out earlier. "Go see if anyone else's around, yeah?"

John nodded, heading out to survey the house. It took a few minutes, but he couldn't find anyone and cars were gone when he looked outside, except the one Paul had arrived in. 

"Looks like we're all alone. Guess they reckoned I needed sleep. Bastards didn't even try to wake me, " he laughed, walking back in. "You find anything that'll fit?"

By the time John walked back in, Paul was already trying on one of John's swim trunks, standing in front of a mirror, giggling as he looked at his own ass. "This is fucking ridiculous," he told John, turning around to show it off. "Might as well not even wear anything."

"I think it makes your ass look great, but I'm also willing to not wear anything at all. We could always blame it on the grass," he chuckled, openly admiring Paul's ass in those swim trunks. "Up to you, Macca," he said, pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it onto the bed. "Toss me a pair, yeah?"

"Nah," Paul said, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it off to the side. "If I'm going naked, then so are you," he told John with a wink. "You got any robes or something? So we can cover up if someone gets home."

John shrugged, pulling his pants off and tossing them onto the bed as well. Moving to the closet, he grabbed two robes and handed one to Paul, pulling the other on himself. He couldn't help the way his eyes fell on Paul and he smiled once more, his cheeks hurting from smiling so damn much today. He didn't even feel tired anymore, and that was speaking volumes in itself. 

"You were always beautiful, y'know?"

"I know," Paul replied, playful cockiness disguising the way his heart fluttered in his chest from the compliment. He put the robe on and walked around the bed to give John a kiss, but before leaving, he walked out onto the balcony to fetch the Polaroid camera they'd left out there. He put the strap around his neck once again and rushed to the door, signaling with his head for John to follow. "Well? C'mon, then!"

John giggled at the kiss and shivered a bit, despite the lack of it being cold at all. He tied the robe around his waist and followed Paul out and down the stairs to the pool. Once they were out there, he dropped the robe almost immediately, stretching and feeling the sun on his skin with a smile as he looked up towards the sky. Setting his glasses on the small table in between two chairs, he dove into the water, coming up with a yelp. "It's a little cold today!" he laughed, pushing his hair back out of his face. "C'mon, Macca! Suffer with me!" he laughed, splashing at Paul playfully.

Paul watched John dive in, a smile spreading on his face. He looked so happy - he always did, whenever he was around water. Holding the camera between his hands, Paul tried to time it perfectly so he would snap a picture of John just as he came up, but it didn't quite work - the result was better, though; he caught John laughing and splashing water towards the camera. 

Protecting both camera and picture with his robe, he fanned the Polaroid, watching it develop. _Perfect_. He couldn't help but smile as he saw it, before walking over to the table where John left his glasses. He was careful to shield it from the sun, pinning it down to the table with the weight of the camera, under an umbrella. 

"Alright-- coming!" Paul said, setting the robe down on a chair and making a run for the pool, diving in gracefully.

John couldn't wait to see the photo, but he stayed in the water nonetheless. He laughed again as Paul dove in, swimming towards him. "Really enjoy havin' me own pool. Couldn't do this in a public one. Nudity is frowned upon," he grinned, looking down at Paul in the water and wiggling his eyebrows. "I for one, however, appreciate it quite a bit."

"Oh, I know you do. If you had your way, you'd have a magnified picture of your cock on the side of every building in New York City," Paul teased, placing his hands on either side of John's hips, underwater. "I'd rather keep some things private, you know. It should be the honour of a lucky few to appreciate _this_."

John's hands immediately went to Paul's hips as well, pulling him close so their bodies were touching. "I know you do, Paulie. And even if they can see it, doesn't mean they get to appreciate it the way I do," he winked, leaning to kiss him slowly. "I'm so fucking glad you came here today," he said quietly, the water making gentle noises around them, calming John, as was Paul's touch. He felt better than he had in years and he knew it was all because of Paul being there.

"Me too, Johnny," Paul replied with a smile, immediately moving to kiss him again. He couldn't get enough of John - the more they kissed and touched each other, the more Paul wanted of him. Soon, he found himself moaning into John's mouth, pulling him closer with a hand on his lower back, dangerously close to his ass.

John encouraged him, taking hold of his hand and moving it downward with a grin into the kiss. "That's better," he chuckled, kissing Paul once more. He couldn't get enough of him, either. He let their lips slide against one another for a few minutes, enjoying the way they felt. It had been something he'd wanted for so long. "I want you," he breathed against Paul's lips.

Without wasting another second, Paul pushed John backwards to the edge of the pool - and once there, lifted him up easily by the hips, putting him down and settling in between his legs. 

No matter what John may have said, he _loved_ it when Paul took control of him like this. He grunted softly as his back hit the edge and helped as Paul lifted him up, legs falling open for him without hesitation. “Keep an eye out," Paul warned John, before lowering himself between John's legs. Wrapping his lips around the tip of his cock, he flicked his tongue, slowly, teasing, looking up to watch John's reaction.

John's head fell back for a moment, but he had to see this. "Fucking Christ, Macca," he breathed out, not expecting this in the least. "Forgot how good it feels to have me cock in your mouth," he smirked, biting his lower lip.

Paul smiled up at John with his eyes, mouth busy licking along the underside of his cock, planting kisses along his length. He loved teasing John like this, having him in the palm of his hand. Fuck, how long had it been since he'd last been able to enjoy this?

He didn't care to know the answer, really. He just hoped he remembered how to do this right - and, judging by John's reaction, it seemed he did. Building confidence, he slid his mouth further up, parting John's legs further apart and running feather-light fingers over his inner thigh.

John moaned, eyes locked on Paul's. This was pure bliss. He sighed and hummed in response, legs moving farther apart for Paul at the insistence of his touch and scooted a little more to the edge, careful not to buck his hips into Paul's mouth the way he wanted to. He took a hand to run through Paul's dark hair and nearly melted at the way he looked just then. He glanced over to the table, seeing how far away it was. This was certainly a photo-worthy moment. Paul's movements, however, grabbed his full attention once more and he licked his lips, watching his every move, a breathy moan on his lips.

Paul followed John's gaze as he looked behind himself, worried that it might be someone coming. He found nobody, though - only the Polaroid camera and John's glasses sitting on the table, just where they'd left them. Paul made the connection, though, smirking as he pulled away. Paul kept one hand around John as he pulled him down by the jaw towards him into a sloppy, feverish kiss. Mouths sliding wet and hot against each other, Paul didn't neglect to touch John as they kissed; hand curling around the base of his cock and working him up and down, up and down, finishing by pressing his thumb down against the head.

John moaned into the kiss, reveling in the touches, hips rocking gently into Paul's hand. There was nowhere else he'd rather be right now than out here with Paul. He couldn't believe the high he had, either. He assumed, at first, it was the weed, but the more Paul kissed him and touched him, the higher he seemed to get. Paul was his drug.

"Are you sure no one's coming?" Paul whispered against John's lips, holding his position.

John was lost in the younger man when he spoke, taking a moment to register that a question was being asked. "We're all alone, Paulie, what're you gonna do to me?" he smirked back against the younger's lips.

"What do you think, Johnny?" Paul purred, pulling back for a moment to give John a lecherous smirk. "What would you like me to do to you now?"

" _Dirty things_ ," he smirked back, biting his lower lip. "Things that involve your cock in me arse and your body pressed up against mine," he said with a hum.

Paul practically growled in response, immediately letting go of John and pushing him backwards. "Inside. _Now_ ," he demanded, getting out of the pool himself. He watched John as he palmed himself, marveling at how _incredibly_ hard John's words had just made him.

John smirked a little more at being pushed back, watching as Paul got out of the pool. He led the way inside and upstairs, grabbing the camera and his glasses. He pulled Paul into the room and kissed him hard, hands running down Paul's still slick body. He'd missed him more than words could say, especially lately.

In the bedroom, Paul pushed John backwards, grabbing him by the hips and throwing him onto the bed. As he did, the camera John had been holding fell onto the mattress beside him and Paul took it, examining it. " _Naughty_." Smiling devilishly, he climbed up on top of John, knees at either side of his body, and snapped a picture of his view. He couldn't be bothered to shake it or wait for it to develop, though, discarding both camera and picture in favor of diving down to kiss John again.

John's hands slid around Paul, pulling him close until one hand was in those long locks of hair. He kissed Paul feverishly - he loved when Paul took control like this. He grabbed the camera and snapped a picture of their bodies pressed together. Putting it back down, he pulled Paul back for another kiss. 

"Fuck me, Paulie," he pleaded in a whisper against Paul's lips. "It's been so long..."

Paul hummed a response, kissing the side of John's mouth and his jaw. Against his ear, he whispered, "Have you been good? I've read all those things about you hanging around gay bars, you know. I don't like it." Sinking his teeth into John's earlobe, Paul sprawled out his hand atop the older's lower abdomen - dangerously close to his cock, but not quite touching it.

_Shit_. He hadn't been good. Not in the least. Of course, he never figured he'd be in this situation again, so he'd been searching for something--- anything that resembled it. He never found anything that even came **close**. 

"If I'd've known this was an option I'd have been better," he breathed honestly, hand tangling in Paul's hair, hips arching up as his cock _begged_ for attention.

For a moment, Paul saw _red_. This had always been their agreement: _no other men_. And it wasn’t the first time John broke it, either - Stuart and Brian came to mind, but at this point, there was no telling who else John had been with. 

Set on teaching him a lesson, Paul did _not_ touch John, even going as far as using a hand on his chest to pin him to the bed and keep him from arching up again. “I’m going to be the _last_ man who fucks you,” he said, eyes boring into John’s. “Do you understand?”

 

John knew he was angering Paul but he didn't feel the need to lie. Paul's reaction, though... it turned John on more than he cared to admit. The way he pinned him down, practically growling at him had his cock twitching with anticipation. 

As Paul's eyes bored into his, he found himself nodding. "Yes, Sir," slipping over his lips. That was exactly what John wanted anyway, for Paul and him to be together forever. "I understand," he added for good measure.

 

"Good," Paul replied, breathy but firm. His hand on John's chest slid downward, although he again avoided touching him where he _needed_ it most. Fingers brushing the sensitive underside of his thighs, he parted John's legs, pulling him towards himself. "You're _mine_ ," he said, in equal parts to John and to himself, because he needed to hear it. John was his, God damn it - no one else should have him and he shouldn't _want_ anybody but Paul. The thought of having to share him with anybody else boiled his blood, although it was ultimately his own fault for allowing it to happen.

John's emotions were everywhere. When Paul rumbled that he was _his_ , John smiled from ear to ear, though. It was what he'd been longing to hear again after the years apart. Still smiling, he bit his lip and nodded. " **So** fucking lucky," he agreed. Humming in response to that finger at his entrance, his eyes remained locked on Paul's. 

Pushing those thoughts away, Paul popped three fingers into his mouth, slicking them with saliva as he held John's thighs apart with his right hand. "You're lucky I'm _so_ fucking in love with you," he said, first finger finding its way to John's entrance. "I should teach you a fucking lesson - leave you high and dry."

 

He shook his head, hands reaching to touch the younger's arms gently. "Please don't, Paulie... I need you," he said, frowning now. It was true, though. He needed Paul in every way a person could need another. "I'm sorry I was bad. But you know I'm all yours---always was, always will be. Please don't leave me high and dry," he pleaded again.

Paul's anger melted away at the sound of John's words. In that moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the world - although he may not be the sole person to ever make love to John, he could certainly count himself among the few, if not the _only_ one to hear such things from him.

"And I'm yours,” Paul whispered as he lowered himself, inches away from John's lips. "Let's keep it that way, yeah?" He added, slowly working the first finger into John.

John pushed himself up to close that tiny gap between his lips and Paul's, pressing them together. "Yeah," he agreed with a soft grunt as Paul's finger found its way inside of him. The younger's touch was unlike any other---it was as though Paul knew exactly the way to touch John _just right_. He let out a deep breath as his back hit the bed once more and pulled Paul closer. He needed him **close**. With a hand on the back of his neck, John pulled him close enough to continue their kiss, his tongue slipping into Paul's mouth with a moan.

Paul responded with a moan of his own into the kiss - the amount of himself John put into it, the way he pulled him in impossibly close was nothing short of one of the _best_ things he'd experienced in his life. Wet mouths sliding against each other, Paul granted John's wish, pressing every inch of their bodies together. He could feel John relax under him so he slid his finger further, even going as far as tentatively curling it inside John before he broke the kiss. "Another one?" He asked softly, lips brushing John's cheek, following it with a trail of kisses back to his mouth.

John moaned again at the way Paul's finger curled inside of him and he nodded, "Mmhmm. Please." John couldn't think of anything but how good it felt to have Paul pressed against him, inside of him, even if it was just his fingers. He shivered thinking of how good it was about to be, kisses getting a little sloppier with need and _want_. He almost felt overwhelmed with feelings, it'd been so long since the two of them had been together like this. It felt like a lifetime ago. So many things were different, yet this... this was the same in the best way possible. 

"I love you," John breathed, lips brushing Paul's.

"I love you, Johnny," Paul whispered back, capturing John's lips in another kiss. The second finger slid in easier, so Paul carefully pushed further. "That alright?" He asked softly, planting kisses all along John's jaw.

“Yeah," John answered, breathy and low. He only cringed the slightest bit as Paul pushed further, but the pain was quickly replaced with bliss, back arching off the bed a little. "Fuck, Paulie," he moaned, hands tangling in Paul's hair.

"Good, baby?" Paul cooed, letting the pet name slip without a second thought. He tried to replicate the movement he'd just made, hoping to elicit the same reaction from John again.

"Fuck, yes," John moaned again as Paul's fingers hit that same spot. He was lost in bliss at this point, hips pushing into Paul's touch. "Please, Paulie, need you..."

John didn't need to ask twice. Quickly, he removed his fingers and wrapped them around himself, using precum and saliva to slick his cock. " _Fuck_ ," he groaned as he sunk into John, head hanging back and fingers twitching, digging into the skin of John's thigh with the intense feeling of pleasure. Another string of curses escaped him as he was able to slide in further, too blissfully _lost_ to care what came out of his mouth.

John's eyes closed, curses escaping him as well. It burned a bit as Paul stretched him the rest of the way, but _Christ_ , it felt good. John's hands grabbed onto Paul, fingertips pressing hard against his flesh as the younger man moved farther into him. "Fuck, baby, it's so fucking good," he said, urging Paul to continue as he relaxed again under him. This, he was certain, was pure heaven.

As John relaxed, Paul was able to slide in further, going nearly all the way - then slowly pulling back, setting somewhat of a pace. " _So_ good," he echoed, lowering himself to kiss John again; a passionate, fiery kiss, their teeth clinking together as Paul felt as though he had hardly any control over himself. "You're so good, Johnny-- _fuck_ ," he breathed, pressing their foreheads together.

John's hips began to move in rhythm with Paul's, meeting his slow thrusts. He could feel the younger man's breath on his lips and that only turned him on more. Fingers curled into Paul's dark locks and he pulled him impossibly closer, kissing him again. It was sloppy and hot, teeth nipping at Paul's lower lip as his free hand slid over his back, keeping him as close as possible. He moaned again at the feel of Paul's body pressing against his cock trapped between them, eyes opening to look at Paul's face.

Paul's thrusts picked up in speed and quickly became more frantic, as heat around them grew almost stiflingly hot. Beads of sweat mixed up with chlorine water leftover from the pool, and Paul had to pull back a little just to breathe. As he did, he found John's eyes looking back at him, dark and heavy-lidded with pleasure, and Paul knew this had to be the most beautiful sight in the world. He held his gaze for a short yet meaningful moment, before dipping down to kiss him again - he just couldn't get enough.

John was nearly panting, grunting softly with the faster thrusts. Everything felt _so good_. The way the light hit Paul made him look like an angel, but he only thought that for a moment before Paul's lips were on his again. He moaned loudly into the kiss, a string of curses falling as well in between kisses. The bliss was almost too much to take and suddenly John was wracked with guilt over everything that had happened. He tried to push the thoughts away, but they persisted. "Paulie," he nearly whimpered. "I'm sorry. I love you," he said, one hand in his hair, the other holding onto his back, eyes desperate to search the younger man's.

There was a flash of confusion in Paul’s eyes as the words _I’m sorry_ left John’s lips. Frankly, Paul was in another planet right now - too high off the ground with sheer pleasure to so much as give the words a second thought. “I love you, Johnny,” he said, following it with a kiss - gentler, though, than the previous one, as he could sense John needed it. “It’s okay. We’re okay,” he cooed, gently brushing a lock of hair away from John’s face.

John closed his eyes, nodding with a smile. He needed to hear they were okay. Paul always knew exactly what he needed. His hands moved to run down Paul's back, legs around his waist. He couldn't help the way his body arched for more contact, nor the way he moaned out Paul's name. He could feel the pressure starting to build low in his belly and he hummed as his teeth captured Paul's bottom lip, scraping gently. Fuck, he was loving this. "Harder," John said after a few moments.

Paul was eager to comply, picking up his pace again and going deeper, harder than before. The harder he fucked John, though, the more difficult it became to control the speed at which a fire burned up inside him. _John_ mattered most, though, so with that in mind, he reached a hand between their slick bodies and wrapped his fingers around the older’s cock, fist pumping in time to his increasingly erratic thrusts.

John let out a rather loud _fuck_ as Paul's hand wrapped around his cock, immediately looking to see. His head fell back on the bed, hands on Paul's arms now. "Baby... you feel so fucking good... **fuck**." John was nearly breathless as Paul fucked into him. "I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, back arching. "Oh fuck, _Paul_ ," he moaned, unable to hold his orgasm off any longer as he coated both their bellies with white ropes.

Paul followed suit, the sight of John squirming and blabbering underneath him coupled with the way he tensed up around his cock as he came sending him over the edge. 

“Fuck, oh _fuck_ , Johnny— _fuck_ , I love you,” he blurted, followed by an animalistic growl as he emptied himself into John, holding tightly onto him as he did.

John's eyes squeezed shut, a face of pure bliss as Paul spoke. His hands held him close, body relaxing against the bed as he came down from that high that he hadn't been able to get anywhere else. "I love you," he answered, voice low and breathy. "No one's ever made me feel that good, Paulie. Only you," he said, rubbing Paul's back slowly, lifting his head to press a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips.

Paul allowed himself to lie on top of John for a while, resting as his breathing slowly evened out. "Love you," he repeated into the kiss, before rolling off of the older man to the other side of the bed. He reached across to grab his shirt, sitting in a pile at the end of the bed, and retrieved what was left of the weed and rolling papers from a pocket. He sat up and got to work on rolling a second joint, glancing over at John as he did. "Best afternoon I had in a long time," he said, giving him a slow, tired smile.

John relaxed, arms behind his head as Paul moved to roll the joint and watched him, giving him a smile as he looked over. He hummed in response, nodding in agreement. "I could say the same," he grinned, rolling onto his side and leaning to press a kiss to Paul's arm as it was the closest thing to him at the moment. He reached for the camera that was on the stand and snapped a picture of Paul with a laugh. "Beautiful as ever," he smirked, fanning himself with the Polaroid and batting his lashes at Paul.

"For the love of Christ, tell me you'll be careful with those pictures," Paul said, only half serious, as evidenced by the smile still on his face. "If this ends up on the Daily Mail or something, I'll have your bloody head." Finishing the joint, he gave John a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up to get the ashtray and lighter they'd left out on the balcony.

"I can see the headline now: _one hell of a Beatles reunion_!" John laughed. He squinted, looking for his glasses and put them on once he'd found them. Paul came into focus and for a moment, he was breathless. The younger man had that effect on him. "How are you so bloody handsome all the time?" he asked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, waiting for Paul.

"Dunno, really. One of my many talents, I s'pose," Paul playfully replied as he opened the balcony doors, stepping out. The sun was just about to disappear into the ocean, casting a pale pink light everywhere - a breathtaking view. "John, come out here! Get the camera," Paul called, poking his head back inside.

He got up quickly, grabbing the camera, and headed out the doors to see the way the sun painted the horizon. It truly was beautiful. He snapped a picture of the view, then another of Paul with said view behind him. "Perfect," he said, handing the camera to Paul.


End file.
